The Golden Road
by valkyrie113
Summary: au of the late 1950s where bones is a recently graduated from med school and kirk is a greaser. Will be a long mckirk series :3
1. Chapter 1: Intro

That night was especially busy at the hospital. It was a strange transition for Bones, officially Doctor Leonard McCoy, from the controlled environment of a classroom to the hectic but exciting life as an actual doctor. He had always known what he wanted to be as a child, medicine the only mystery he found worthwhile with so much more was still to be discovered. Also the pay and status were perks, he still resided in an old apartment on the lower class side of town, but nothing too bad. A couple of years with his new paycheck and he would be living in a house of his own in no time, maybe starting a family. He scoffed at the last notion, remembering how his high school to college sweetheart had left so abruptly taking most of the items they had together and leaving him with basically nothing. _It's better this way. _He thought to himself. _A fresh start to a new life._ He did however keep one thing, his old car that would huff and puff and spew smoke in all four directions, but nevertheless it was his. He was humming along to the crackly radio as he pulled up to the parking lot. It was late, and the street lights were already into effect, but the moon was only barely visible, a white smile against the dark blanket of night. As he walked across, he passed an alley way, though trapped in his own thoughts, he knew the smell of blood. He stopped, nearly tripping over himself when he turned and saw a young man soaked in his own pool of blood.

The man was heaped against a wall next to a trash can, his breathes airy and swift, a hand pressed against a wound on his stomach. He looked up at Bones, his blue eyes piercing throw the darkness. He attempted to smile at him, a moment of clarity, but the pain was much too real, making the man grimace.

Bones ran over to him, taking off his doctor's coat and draping it around him. "Jesus Christ," his eyes ran over his body, bruised and cut with a deep gash in his abdomen. "Can you stand?" The man merely nodded, slowly rising, his legs wobbly. Bones helped him up, the man's arm going around his shoulder, leaning heavily against him.

"Kirk," the man said as Bones used his other hand to find his keys. "Jim Kirk."

"Well okay then Jim," McCoy doing his best to keep his voice soothing and calm. "You're going to be alright, I'm taking you to the hospital—,"

Jim drew back, nearly toppling Bones over. "No, I can't… no…family…money…" He shook his head.

"You're bleeding from every nick of your body and you don't want to go to a hospital?" Bones pulled him forward. "We're going to get you help, _now."_

Jim's body stiffened and slouched, dragging Bones down with him. "I'd rather die here," he let out in a raspy voice. "Less political bullshit to deal with later you know, doc." He managed a smile as he turned his head lazily over to the side, looking at the name on the coat. "_Dr. Leonard McCoy."_

Bones struggled to get up, looking at Kirk lying in the middle of the parking lot, his white coat now soaked in this stranger's blood. He paced a back and forth for a moment, trying to figure out what to do with him. He looked back at Jim, his eyes now blue slights directed at him with a slight grin on his face. Bones could not believe that he was smiling, his mouth all cracked and bleeding, yet _smiling_ at him. He let out an audible sigh. "Get up," Bones commanded as he grabbed his arm. "We're going to my apartment, it's in that building over there."

Jim stood up, leaning heavily unto Bones. "What no dinner doc? Not even a movie?" He laughed to himself before stumbling into McCoy's body. His bruised face touched his neck, Bone's flesh heating up at contact. He looked at him, their eyes meeting, and Jim flashed him another smile.

"Dammit, just try to walk forward," Bones snapped, quickly pulling out his apartment keys and unlocking his door. The place was quaint, with one bedroom, a kitchen area, a place for his couch and tv (recently purchased). He laid Kirk on the couch, gently as he could. "Stay put, I'm going to help you." He groaned as he strangely enough thought of his poor couch. "The one day I decide to take the plastic off…" he mumbled to himself and he took of Jim's shirt to see the whole damage.

Jim moaned, seemingly unable to talk anymore. Bones grabbed his doctors bag, rummaging through the various items. "Okay, you've lost a lot of blood, but first things first I'm going to clean your wound and then shut it." He poured some alcohol unto a rag. "This is going to hurt, you may want to hold on to something." Bones began to clean the wound, and Jim's hand went to clutch his other. He stopped for a moment looking down at him, a young man with bright intelligent eyes surrounded by swollen purple flesh now clutching _him,_ needing _him _to help. _He's putting a lot of trust in me. I won't let him down. _

He continued his work throughout the night, doing the best he could do with his limited supplies. He knew he would need to get him blood if he was to recover, but he was hesitant to leave Jim by himself. Eventually he did drive over to the hospital, and on his way out muttering to himself excuses of stealing blood packs he shook his head and took a few deep breaths.

"Heey, McCoy!" he heard a voice behind him. _A coworker, shit, just get it together Bones. _He turned and smiled at the other doctor. "Didn't expect to see you here on your day off," continued flipping through a newspaper. "Pretty interesting in the papers, those gangs are at it again. Cops came by this morning to see if any of them came for some stiches." He looked out the window. "No one showed up, pretty crazy out there for vagrants."

"Yeah," Bones agreed, his words hollow. "I, just came to check on my schedule for tomorrow." Bones patted the other doctor on the shoulder. "Have a good one."

"You too," he waved as he rustled through his paper.

He sat in his car, starting the ignition, and laid his head on the steering wheel. "What the hell are you doing, Bones?" he spoke out loud to himself. He knew Jim had to be something with the gang fights recently. His hair was greased back, the leather jacket he found him in, and the worn denim jeans. _And he blatantly refused to go to the hospital. _He was housing a criminal. A gang member, one of those greasers. He knew he had to get rid of him, sooner or later. He could lose his job, his _world_ if this got out.

McCoy basically floated to his doorstep, thinking of how to get him the blood and then get him out. As he opened the door, he heard the sound of water. Afraid of a leak or something he quickly pulled the blood packs from his coat unto to his table and rushed to the sound. He checked the couch where Jim had slept, but now there were only the stains of his blood remaining. He walked over to the kitchen in awe, where he saw Jim, the _greaser, _doing _his_ dishes, in _Bones's clothing. _

"Wha…" he could not find the words as a rush of emotions flooded him. Anger and relief, with a strange satisfaction of seeing him clean in his sleep shirt, it took a moment for him to recover. He cleared his throat, "I…well… I got you some blood packets but it seems to me that you get better quick."

Jim turned around, drying a plate. "I could probably use it, I feel a little light headed." He smiled and looked down at himself. "I hope you don't mind, but I changed into something a little more comfortable doc."

"Well I guess I couldn't expect you to stay in bloody rags all day," Bones let out a sigh. "Well, come over here, sit down."

Jim complied, a stupid grin still on his face, as he sat down presenting his arm. As Bones set up the tubing, Jim fidgeted a bit. "Hold still for Christ's sake, or I'll mess this up."

"So doc, where can a guy get a shower here?" Jim rubbed his other hand through his sun bleached hair.

"Really?" Bones looked up at him. "Now, you're really asking about that right _now_?"

"Where can a guy get a shower _please?"_ He raised his eyebrows revealing a small pout on his lips.

Bones looked up. _Lord forgive me for my stupidity. _"I'll show you after this."


	2. Chapter 2

Jim had spent the night on the couch again, taking his time to recover. Pretending to be asleep he had watched the doctor get ready for work that morning. _Bones, _that's what he had said his friends called him. Jim smiled to himself under his sheet, he could smell biscuits in the oven and the meaty scent of bacon followed the sound of a sizzling skillet. He waited until Bones had left, shutting the door behind him quietly, and then bounced off of the couch. He quickly fell backwards as the blood rushed from his head, reminding him that he was indeed actually hurt and not in some strange fantasy day care.

Jim stood up steadily, and walked over to the counter where a note was left reading "_Breakfast is in the oven to keep it warm since it'll probably be a while before you wake up. There's some milk in the fridge and cups are in the second cabinet to the left. You probably can't read but I'm sure you'll figure something out."_

"Probably can't read," Jim murmured to himself, as he set it down. He grabbed the pen next to it and wrote on the bottom, "_Probably." _Jim walked in the kitchen and pulled the plate out of the old oven, grabbing a piece of bacon and placing it in his mouth. The apartment was on the second floor, and the balcony had a nice little view of the back lot. He leaned against the railing, tossing a plump biscuit in his mouth. _Not half bad as a cook. _ An audible sigh left his lips and he crunched the last of the bacon down. _Now what Kirk? You've gotten yourself into a mess and brought someone else into it. _With any luck, Khan's gang would think that he was dead, but Spock on the other hand, would not believe such a thing without a body. _I wonder how long before they find me. _Kirk set the plate down on the balcony's 'patio furniture'. For such a small apartment, Bones kept everything organized and clean. It was nice.

"Kirk," he heard the oh-so-familiar stoic voice call from down below. There was the oddest greaser Jim had ever known, his hair perfectly greased back, his leather jacket straightened with a clean white shirt underneath.

"Spock," he called out as he waved slightly. "I was just thinking about you." Jim scanned the back lot, turning his head side to side. "The others with you?"

"No, it would be illogical for everyone to search for you in the same area. It is just me." Spock folded his arms stiffly across his torso. "If I may, what are you doing up there?"

"Oh just enjoying the view," Jim grinned, the irritation on Spock's face being expressed only by an eyebrow raise. "I got hurt and some good pedestrian is helping me out."

"Good pedestrian?" Spock did not sound convinced. "To the extent of your wounds it would take someone with medical training to properly treat you. As you would most certainly not accept an invitation to the hospital, so who is this 'good pedestrian'?"

"Just some guy I met," Jim lifted up his shirt to show the bandaging. "And I'd say I'll be in fighting shape in no time."

"Jim…"

"Aw, don't Jim me," he leaned against the railing. "I'll be fine Spock, you can go tell the others, I'll be out of here as soon as I can. Bones is a _nice_ guy, I'm sure -,"

"Bones does not seem like a name for a reliable doctor. I am simply speaking out of concern for your well-being."

"Well, okay that's not his real name, but he's a real doctor." Jim sighed. "As long as everyone else is fine, get them back together and take it easy. Maybe I can talk him into letting you guys visit."

"That seems highly unlikely that a doctor would allow an entire gang to-,"

"**I'll **handle it, alright?" Jim made a shooing motion with his hand. "What's important is that I get better wouldn't you agree?"

Spock stood for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. "Kirk, I do not know what your intentions are but please do be careful." And as quickly as he had appeared he disappeared into the nearby alley ways.

Kirk let out a sigh of relief. _Why are you still here? _A voice in his head whispered. _You could've left with Spock. _Jim ambled his way inside and lay on the couch. He was hurt, there was a doctor here, and he was treating him for free. _There's more to it than that._ He rolled over to his side. There was something about Bones that Kirk found puzzling. He had no reason to help him, and the entire world would have stood behind him if he had left a low life like him to die. Yet he didn't, he sat there with him, bloodied and bruised, through the night making sure he lived. He couldn't remember much from that night, but he could still hear Bones's calming voice telling him _you're doing well, _and _you'll be okay._ He remembered that he had grabbed his hand, and he didn't pull away, that when he squeezed, Bones squeezed slightly back. And he couldn't deny Bones made the cutest expressions when he came back from the hospital yesterday. With his "_Dammit Jim" _and his "_You should be in bed". _He just had a familiarity with him, one he couldn't quite grasp. He felt comfortable around him.

Jim wandered out unto the balcony, where he saw Bones parking. "Oh Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?" he called out as Bones walked up to the building, gesturing with his arms wistfully.

McCoy looked up. "Shakespeare?" He raised one of his eyebrows. "Well I guess that solves the case if you can read ," he spoke out before he entered the apartment building. Jim remained on the balcony, looking at his car. Beat up old thing, a paint job wouldn't hurt.

He turned when he heard Bones entering the apartment, and grinned, "That your ride, doc?"

"That, in fact, is an Edsel Pacer, a gift from my father for graduating medical school." Bones set his medical bag down on the counter shaking his head slightly embarrassed looking at the note he had left.

"I heard those were discontinued," Jim slumped over on the couch, making a face and grabbing at his abdomen realizing how tender the wound was. "And never expected to see one in _that_ condition."

Bones rolled his eyes as he put his coat on the rack. "Well, I have had my fair share of car troubles." He put his hands on his hips as he walked in the kitchen, sighing as he saw the dishes. "I guess lighting doesn't strike twice."

"I mean how old is that car, can't be more than a couple of years."

"Jim, I don't-,"

"You literally aged that car ten years, that's quite the talent, doc." Jim sat up. "I could fix her up for you, if you want."

Bones looked over at him. "Look, kid, I—You don't have to do that, this is done by my stupidity you don't owe me anything." He started the water, rolling up his sleeves.

"So what if," Jim stood up, walking over behind him. "I did because of the therapeutic properties."

"Okay Jim—,"

"I like cars, and I think it would do me a world of good if I could get my hands on one, doc." He leaned over the counter, his hand slightly touching Bones's as he placed a dish on the drying rack. "I promise I'll have her purring like a kitten when I'm done, Bones." He ended with a sly half smile, leaving his hand on his for just a moment too long.

"McCoy, Dr. Leonard McCoy," he quickly turned around to dry his hands off with a small towel. "Bones is what my friends call me, not patients, or," he glanced back at Jim, "whatever this is."

"Well we might not be friends yet, but I'd like to be friends with the man who rescued me," Jim sat on the counter. "C'mon I'm offering you a free fix up, and I know a guy who could _really_ amp up your ride."

"Some guy?"

"Yeah, sure he's Scottish, but he's really the best mechanic I've ever met, honest to god," he rose his hand.

"So what type of gang you pulling," Bones went over to the fridge, looking for something to cook.

Jim cocked his head. "Me, oh well you see it's just—"

"Are they coming up as we speak, ready to rob me blind and take my car as a getaway?" He pulled out packaged chicken.

"Definitely not that, never, not if you were the only person left to rob in the whole world," Jim smirked to himself. "It's nothing like that, we usually stick to ourselves, but sometimes it can get messy." He gestured to his abdomen. "As you have seen."

"I've always had a knack to get myself into trouble," Bones grumbled as he searched for a pot in his maze of cabinets.

"Then we do have something in common." Jim walked over to him and grabbed his hand placing it on a cabinet knob. "I've been here for a day, doc, do I really make you that uncomfortable?"

Bones's face flushed as he quickly pulled the knob, finding the pots. "Well, it's not every day you find a gang member in your trash can."

"It's not every day you find a handsome doctor pulling you out of the gutters and then makes you chicken soup." Jim let go of his hand, putting his behind his back.

"I guess not," he swallowed. "Jim,"

He had already made his way back to the couch, lying on his back. He perked his head, "Hmm?"

"I get off early tomorrow, maybe you could take a look at my car then."

"No problem doc, consider it done." Jim simply watched him cook with a content smile on his face. _There's just something about him._


	3. Chapter 3

Bones poured another glass of lemonade from his grandmother's old pitcher as he watched Jim inspect his car. He wasn't sure if he trusted the kid, but he was in no condition to make a break for it if he tried to steal something. And he sure had his own methods of persuasion. He picked up the tray of glasses and made his way across the lot. "So when is the rest of your crew coming?"

Jim was in one of Bones's old college shirts, the initials NYU stretched across his chest. "Any time now doc," he grabbed a glass and smiled, "and don't worry I'll make sure they all behave."

Bones let out a heavy sigh. "Well, just don't make a scene. I have to live with the people in that apartment lot you know."

"And what do you tell them about me?" He leaned against the Pacer sipping his beverage. "Surely they noticed you've had a young man at your place for a couple of days. People love to talk."

Bones tilted his head, not quite sure what to make of Jim's last statement. "That they do. I told them you're my cousin, from out west. Got into some financial trouble and need a place to stay."

Jim shrugged neutrally. "As good of a lie as any." He placed the now empty glass back on the tray. "I'm from Iowa, actually. So I guess part of it is true."

"Iowa?" _He's just filled with surprises isn't he? _"So what possessed you to go to New York?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Boredom," he popped open the hood. "Just so much fields of nothingness can do for a guy, you want to find something bigger to be a part of, y'know."

"And I guess, in your case that would be a gang?"

"Hey, you have to admit, the hair looks pretty good greased back." He wiped his hands off on a towel.

Bones rolled his eyes, as another car pulled into the lot. A 1949 Mercury, with a dark blue paint job, rolled up with the loud drumming of a motorcycle behind.

Jim waved them over, his arms over his head. "Hey, over here, Scotty, Spock!"

"I should probably go get some more lemonade—," Bones tried to turn to go back into the building, but Jim clasped a strong hand on his shoulder.

"Nonsense, you should say hello first," he smiled brightly. "I promise you'll like them, I bet they'll like you. The lemonade can wait."

Bones watched the car park nearby, the motorcyclist, approaching first, a tall pale man with a face with the expression of stone.

"Kirk," he walked over to him, oddly bowing slightly, "it is pleasing to see you are still in operational health."

"You too Spock," Jim patted his companion's shoulder. "But it's really thanks to the doc," he gestured to McCoy, "Bones here patched me up much better than I expected."

"It's Doctor McCoy," he butted in, eyeing Jim, "Bones is just a silly nickname. It's Doctor Leonard McCoy."

"Aye, it is a wee silly," A man with a heavy Scottish accent walked up, followed by a lanky Asian man, a bright eyed black woman, and a younger man, possibly in his teens, who Bones could tell was foreign but couldn't place it.

"Montgomery Scott," he shook his hand firmly, with greased stained palms. "But you can call me Scotty, lad, that's my 'silly nickname'."

"I see," Bones shifted the tray in his hands uncomfortably.

"And this is Hikaru Sulu, Nyota Uhura, and this here is Pavel Chekov," Jim introduced as he grabbed the rim of Bones's rolled up sleeve. He grinned. "This is my crew you could say, not exactly what you were expecting, doc?"

"I was not expecting this, that much is true…"

"Does the variance of gender and race upset you Doctor?" Spock questioned, in a calm tone.

"Spock," Jim's jaw dropped in shock, and swatted the dark haired man in the shoulder.

"It is a logical question, Jim, a white male of good financial standings and a profession that requires a doctorate, it is statically safe to assume that he would hold these prejudices." He tilted his head. "But it is not logical he would take a risk such as you if he was not different than the typical white male doctor. So it is reasonable to-,"

"The answer is no, Mister Spock," _What is this guys deal?_ "By no means am I sexist or racist. You'll be glad to know, I'm a very open-minded person." Bones looked over at Jim. "And now if you'll excuse me, I'll go get lemonade and you can get to work."

Scotty rolled up his sleeves and Bones heard a few phrases as he walked inside, "Bloody hell!" and "What the hell did he do to this poor car?"

_He sure has an odd group of friends._ He mixed the pitcher, the long wooden spoon slowly making circles. _And they all are in a gang, remember they aren't just the neighborhood kids._ He took in a heavy breath as he poured more glasses. _The neighbors are going to talk. But they always do._ Bones sighed as he opened the door and made his way down the stairs, almost dropping the tray as he ran into Chekov.

"So sorvy, meester," _So he's Russian. _"Keptin Kirk told me to help you."

"_Keptin? _Why do you call him Captain?" Bones handed him a few glasses to hold.

"It's hes street name, meester," he took a sip of one the glasses, his one greased curl dangling down his forehead. "Hes father was apparently one, or at least had a military background." He walked down the stairs in front of him, careful not to spill any lemonade.

_A Russian, well I can safely assume why he's in a gang. He's a long way from the Soviet Union._ "So how you end up here, kid?" Chekov opened the entrance door, balancing the cups easily.

"By boat," he simply answered, as Bones walked outside.

_He doesn't want to talk, that's fine, it's probably best if you don't know._ Kirk waved at them, Bones's shirt now ruined in oil. "Chekov, Scotty needs an extra hand over here." He took the glasses of lemonade from him. "Go put your genius to work," he nudged him with his elbow playfully.

Bones handed out the rest of the drinks to Jim's crew, then walking over to lean next to Kirk.

Uhura walked by, a beautiful woman with a big updo and was wearing Spock's leather jacket. "You were right captain, he is cute," she commented as she walked past them, grabbing tools from their vehicle.

Bones was not sure if it was the heat but Jim's face turned to a bright red. "Uhura you really should get back to work, y'know Scotty works better if you're helping him out."

His retort fell flat, since she was already handing Scotty tools. Bones saw him turn his head slightly, towards him. He flashed a grin, crossing his arms around his chest. "Car's coming together pretty smoothly. I can give it a paint job if you want."

_Cute? _"You don't have to , you didn't need to do this." Bones swept his arm around, gesturing to everyone fixing his car. "None of this, I told you, you don't _owe_ me anything." Bones couldn't feel but a tad bit bad, as if he was taking advantage of him. _You did fix him up. _But to Bones, healing was a responsibility, not something you denied to people.

"I wanted to," Jim's tone was softer. _Dare I say sweeter? _"I wanted you to meet everyone, y'know, it doesn't look like you go out much except for work." _Is that pity or concern I see in his eyes?_

"Yeah I guess I don't," Bones looked down, his face a bit warmer. _He has great perception, I'll give him that much. _He had lost a lot of his college friends when he had his break up. It was strange, being together with someone so long that instead of 'his' friends, they were always 'our' friends. _I guess they were actually all 'her' friends._ Bones managed a smile. "Well thanks, I appreciate it."

"Now you owe me, doc," He gently pushed Bones's shoulder. "At least after I repaint it you do."

"And what do you have in mind?" Bones raised an eyebrow. _He'll get paint all over my shirt. _Bones supposed he'd have to get him new clothing. _You can't just buy people clothing, the neighbors will talk._

"Oh, I'll show you," he turned to look back at the progress. "I'm just glad you like the crew."

"Jim if it has anything to do with any gang activity,-,"

"No," he shook his head. "Nothing like that, it'll be fun." He licked his bottom lip, staring at the ground. "You'll like it, you'll see."

Bones sighed, knowing that he would say yes. "You're lucky you're cute…" he murmured, before catching his own tongue. His face burned, as he straightened the tray, taking Jim's glass from his hand and placing it on it. "I'm just going to go, and tend to the-,"

Jim grabbed his hands, shifting them slowly to the tray. "I got it doc."

Bones let his hands slip from the tray, Jim walking off to collect the empty glasses. A stupid grin spread across his face, blushing. "Thanks."


End file.
